I am in love with the green earth.

Books which are no books.

The most mortifying infirmity in human nature, to feel in ourselves, or to contemplate in another, is perhaps cowardice.

Can we ring the bells backward? Can we unlearn the arts that pretend to civilize, and then burn the world? There is a march of science; but who shall beat the drums for its retreat?

Some people have a knack of putting upon you gifts of no real value, to engage you to substantial gratitude. We thank them for nothing.

A laugh is worth a hundred groans in any market.

Clap an extinguisher upon your irony if you are unhappily blessed with a vein of it.